Shattered Dreams & Sleeping Pills
by windwolf901
Summary: Follows Tifa approximate one year after the Nibelheim Accident as she tries to carve out a life in the slums of Midgar.
1. To Exist

The air was thick, and stunk of pollution. It was late, probably close to midnight, but that made no difference. You couldn't see the sun down in the slums as there was no difference between night and day. They both melded together, illuminated by the lights of old, rundown buildings, and could be told apart only by the time. The crowds who filled the streets below were a never-ending, constant thing, made up of people who were too busy with their own problems to look around and take notice of another. Down in the slums, the people possessed no love, and no hate. No emotion at all, just a heavy sense of nothingness.

People drifted in and out of shops, whores called out to potential clients, the odd fight took place in an out-of-the-way alley. The strong got what they wanted, the weak didn't. On any given day, you could expect to see a young woman being sexually harassed by someone. It wasn't out of the ordinary, in fact, it happened all the time. Nobody ever did anything about it. They simply acknowledged it with dull acceptance. The indifference of it all puzzled her.

Things were so different in Midgar, compared to Nibelheim. There, the sun shone brightly, the air was crisp and clean, especially up in the mountains. Kids would play outside, while their parents sat on the front porch, keeping an eye on them while reading the paper. It was the perfect stereotype of a peaceful country town. But the perfection had been cruelly destroyed by a madman. Not only had Shinra destroyed her hometown, but they had also trapped her in this terrible city.

There was no escape from Midgar, seeing as how few people were permitted through the city gates located in each sector.

She had been in this prison for almost a year, working the evening shift as a waitress in a popular, but rundown bar in Sector Seven. Any other girl would have considered herself lucky to find a job that paid enough for them not to have to resort to prostitution, like so many other women in the slums. She felt no such honor. She was not living; so much as she was merely existing. Though Sephiroth had not physically succeeded in killing her, he had killed her spirit. She had no friends, and found herself no longer interested in boys, most of the ones her age here were only interested in getting laid anyway.

She rented a small apartment in Sector Four, though you could hardly call it an apartment. It was simply a large brick room, lit solely by three lightbulbs that were suspended from the ceiling. It had a sink, a fridge, a stove, and a couple cupboards. The only other room was a small, horribly dirty bathroom. Her bed consisted of an uncomfortable springy mattress laid out on the floor. She ate at a card table she had found in a garbage dump. It had been falling apart when she found it, so she had taped it together with duct tape. Having no dresser, her clothes were strewn about the room. The only window in the apartment looked out on the busiest street in the sector. The noise used to keep her awake, but she was used to it by now.

She stood with her back against the door, her eyes scanning the filthy room. _This isn't living_, she thought to herself, as she walked over to where her only pair of pajamas lay on the floor. She changed into them and walked into the bathroom to wash her face. Water dripped from the showerhead, which was hidden by a gray shower curtain. Under the sink, the morning's newspaper had been laid out on the tiled floor to absorb a leak from one of the pipes. Part of the paper hadn't gotten wet yet, and sections of an article entitled "Shinra Inc. Approves Corel Reactor" could be read. She glanced at it grimly as she turned the water on. _Shinra is the strong, and we are the weak. The dreams of the weak never come true. There are no knights in shining armor to protect us and our would-be realities. Instead, we are exploited, used so that the strong may become stronger._

Cold water splashed into the rusty sink. She washed her face and hands with soap, then dried them on her shirt. She opened the cabinet above the once white sink. Inside, it contained a brush, elastics for her long, chocolate-colored hair, a small amount of makeup, and a bottle of sleeping pills.

She reached for the bottle and popped the lid. Removing two of the white capsules, she replaced the lid and put the clear plastic container back in the cabinet. Leaving the bathroom, she walked over to one of the cupboards, removed a glass, and filled it with water. Glancing at the two pills apprehensively before popping them into her mouth, she swallowed them with a large gulp of metallic-tasting water. Setting the glass down on the counter next to the sink, she turned off all but one of the lights before lying down and pulling the blankets up to her chin.

_There are no heroes, no promises worth being kept. Life is like the ocean waves, violent, yet containing a rhythmic calmness. The waves will never cease. They shall always exist._

"Hey, waitress! Get me another drink!"

"Already? Don't you think you've had enough?"

"I'll tell you when I've had enough! Now get me my god damn drink!"

Tifa sighed as she went around the bar to retrieve his drink. That man would come in every day at 5:30 and drink until he fell unconscious. He was going to get there faster than usual tonight, seeing as how he had already drank four beers, and it hadn't even been half an hour since he started.

There were two other customers in the bar at the time. They were sitting at a small table, talking over some food. Tifa studied them as she gave the man his fifth beer. Neither of them looked to be much older than her.

The girl had thick brown hair, lighter than hers, and held back in a ponytail. Loose strands fell over her red bandanna and framed her pale face. She wore a faded blue jean jacket over top of a plain black shirt. Her jeans were also very faded, and had a large hole in the right knee.

Her friend was quite round compared to many of the people in the slums. He had short, dark brown hair, most of which was covered by a red baseball cap. He wore a light yellow T-shirt, and dark blue jeans with an elastic waist, rather than a belt.

Though Tifa could not hear them, it was clear that they were involved in a debate over something. Often, the girl would throw her arms in the air, lean back in her chair, and eat in silence for awhile. Then, the conversation would start again, and end the same way, only to be started again minutes later.

With nothing to do, Tifa found herself curios as to what they were talking about. She looked around the bar, and decided that with her only other customer drinking his beer contentedly, she may as well wander over and see if she could get them anything.

"Argh! Wedge! You keep going back to the same things over and over again! I tell you, this reactor in Corel is gonna destroy the town!"

"Corel needs the mako reactor! They're not getting any business with their coal anymore. Everybody's using mako now. Most of the people there are out of work as it is. Why not employ some of them by building a reactor for them to work in?"

"Because Corel's coal mines have been around forever! They're a part of the town's history! The people aren't just going to sell them because Shinra tells them to."

"They HAVE to sell the mines Jess. They don't have any money."

"They're still exporting to Wutai aren't they?"

"Yeah, but that's not enough to keep the place alive."

"Excuse me," Tifa said, interrupting them. "Can I get you anything?"

They both stopped talking and looked up at her.

"No, thank you." The girl replied. "What do you think about this reactor in Corel?"

"What do I think?" She nodded. "I think Shinra wants to get a stronger hold on Wutai by owning the source of over half their power."

"See?" Jess said, turning back to her friend. "Shinra isn't interested in employing the people of Corel! They just want more of a choke-hold on Wutai."

"Yeah, but they'd be employing people in Corel while doing that. Those miners aren't gonna care that Shinra's using them. They're gonna care about having enough money to keep food on the table. That's why they'll sell the mines."

"I still don't think they'll fall for it."

"Well they will. Where's Biggs anyway?"

"Working, where do you think? He's got that new job in the weapon shop up in Wall Market. The crazy old man has him sorting through all his garbage."

"Why does he collect that stuff anyway?"

"I dunno, needs something to do I guess."

Tifa checked her watch and walked back over to the bar. It was getting close to six; the bar should start getting busier soon. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, three brawny men walked into the bar.

Tifa recognized them as her boss' buddies from the gym. She prided herself on the fact that there were very few people that came to the bar who's name and problems she didn't know.

The night continued, and more and more customers came in. At seven, her boss came in to give her a break. It was a couple hours into her seven hour shift, and Tifa got a ten minute break every two hours.

The owner was a big man, who was always in need of a shave. A former member of the Shinra army, he spent all his free time working out in the gym up in Wall Market. He was also the only reason that there were no fights in the bar, as he could deal lethal blows with his cast iron frying pan. He would often stick around to help her out with the customers until hired help came.

The night crawled on, eventually, eleven o'clock rolled around, and Tifa's replacement came. Just like every other night, Tifa left the bar at ten after eleven, caught the 11:30 train back to Sector Four, and walked the short distance from the train station back to her apartment.

A year ago, this all wouldn't have been so routine. A year ago, she would never have been able to picture herself living in Midgar. A year ago she had friends, family, and hobbies. Now all she had were shattered dreams and sleeping pills.

It wasn't the darkness, she decided, so much as there was no natural light. The plate above blocked out everything the sky had to offer. The beautiful sunrises, the sun, the rain, whether it be a light shower that would give you a rainbow, or a violent storm with thunder and lightning, a clear, cloudless day, the glorious sunsets, the moon, the stars…

The stars. There were so many memories to be had under the stars. She could clearly remember stargazing with her mom during a camping trip up in the mountains. But even more prominent was the memory of a promise made by the well on a cool March night.

There was to be a meteor shower that night, but few were seen. Tifa remembered seeing one though, right after she had pushed Cloud into making his promise to her. It had been a stupid, childish act. Cloud had every reason to ignore the promise all together, and she couldn't blame him for doing so. She had been trying to cling to someone she barely knew, even though he was her neighbor.

"If I'm ever in trouble, my hero will come rescue me. I want to experience that at least once." It was perhaps the stupidest sounding thing she had ever said. She wanted a hero, a knight in shining armor, someone who would sweep her off her feet and carry her away on his white horse to his beautiful castle. Cloud was hardly the type of person to do anything like that. He was the withdrawn, quiet, brooding type. So why had she made him promise to protect her?

Not that the promise did her much good anyway. Her home had still been burnt to the ground, her life had still been shattered, and she had still nearly died. Where was her hero when she needed him? Most likely hanging out with some of his SOLDIER buddies, not worrying or caring. How could he have known that his idol was destroying his hometown?

Promises are made to be broken, loves to be lost. Friends are made to be there for you, except for when you need them. Families are made to care for and guide you, but leave you high and dry when you need to be cared for and guided the most.

There are no such things as heroes. They exist only in fairy tales, along with the unicorns and dragons. The people of this world don't care about one another; they have more important things to worry about. You can't depend on anyone but yourself. Midgar had taught her that. The city had worn away her country ideals and exposed her to the truth of the harsh, cold, and uncaring world. It was perhaps the most important lesson she had ever learned.

Another night working in the bar. Another night helping others drown their sorrows. Another night wishing she could drown her own.

There were seven people in the bar at the time. Three of them being Jessie, Wedge, and someone who Tifa assumed to be Biggs, their friend.

The three of them were sitting there; eating the chef's special and talking about Shinra. That's all they ever appeared to talk about. They seemed to hate the electrical company almost as much as she did. Tifa wondered what the corporation had done to them, other than trap them here in the slums.

Tifa looked up at the door as five men wearing Shinra uniforms walked in. She frowned. _What could they want with a bar in the slums?_ She thought to herself. To keep from staring, she began rummaging around behind the bar, trying to look as if she were searching for something.

The commander walked up to the bar and glanced down at a piece of paper before speaking. "We're looking for a Jess, Biggs, and Wedge. I was told we might find them here."

Tifa looked up past the guard. Her eyes focused on her nervous customers. She studied them for awhile, wondering what they had done, until the commander pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Do you know if they're here?"

Startled, Tifa looked up at the tall guard. Lost in her thoughts, she had almost forgotten they were there. "N-no. I try not to know too much about my customers. I have my own problems." That, of course, was a lie. Though Tifa was often in her own world, she knew her customers very well. Turning her attention to the commander, Tifa studied him, searching for the humanity she believed to be absent from all those who worked for Shinra.

He was wearing the regular brown commander uniform. His face showed no emotion, as if he couldn't care less about what he was doing. Tifa found herself resisting a sudden desire to kill him. That soldier represented Shinra, the company whose general had destroyed her hometown. But he was armed, and not alone. Tifa forced herself to unclench her fists. Perhaps, one day, her time for revenge would come. Until then, she had to act civil to these people. They could close the bar if one of them so much as felt an air of rebellion around the place. Shinra didn't need a reason for doing things. They could buy their way out of sticky situations.

She glanced down at her watch. It was 6:35. _Damn. The boss won't be here for another 25 minutes. Guess I'll just deal with them myself then._

"Uh, sir?" A trooper broke the silence, and brought Tifa out of her thoughts once again.

The guard standing at the bar turned around. "What?" he snapped.

"Isn't that them sitting at the table over there?"

His eyes followed the trooper's finger pointing to the table where Jess, Biggs, and Wedge sat trying to look calm._ They aren't doing a very good job at it. _Tifa thought to herself. _Any fool can see they're hiding something._

"Good work soldier. Arrest them."

One of the troopers began to move towards the table where Tifa's customers sat, desperately trying to come up with a plan.

"What did they do?" Tifa found herself asking. The trooper stopped, and turned to face her.

"They were seen blowing up a manufacturing plant in Sector 3," he answered.

"Are you sure? They don't look like the type."

"Of course they're the type! Everyone here in the slums is the type! You're all good-for-nothings. Ain't a decent one in the lot o' you."

Tifa's eyes flared. "I'd watch who you're calling a good-for-nothing. The only reason we're down here is because you're company decided it would be fun to trap us in the slums. You don't need to take them away to prison. They're already in one. And it's far worse than any punishment you guys can cook up."

"Do you have a problem miss?" The commander asked. His hand reached for his mako gun, and the four troopers followed his lead.

"Your company is my problem! If you're looking for corruption, just go to your own Headquarters! None of the people there give a shit about us down here in the slums. This air is gonna kill everybody! But they don't care. They just pretend like they haven't noticed. They want us dead. That way there'll be no more slums, and the whole city will be beautiful and clean, or whatever the hell it's like up there."

By the time Tifa finished, everybody in the bar was watching them. The commander glanced around the bar. Finally, he decided to ignore Tifa's comments, which made her even more angry.

"Arrest the rebels and lets get out of here." He said, turning away from the bar.

Before Tifa was fully aware of what she was doing, she had climbed up onto the bar, and jumped onto the commander's back. Wrapping her left arm around his neck, to keep herself from falling off, she began pounding his head in with her right fist.

Everything started happening fast. Several people in the bar stood up and took Tifa's side, including Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge. The moment Tifa leapt on the soldier's back, the four troopers drew their guns and began shooting. The commander was busy struggling to get Tifa off, and in doing so prevented the troopers from getting a clear shot at her.

Biggs jumped over the bar and withdrew the frying pan often used by the owner when things got rowdy. He lowered it on the back of a troopers' head, killing him instantly. Grabbing the soldiers' gun, Biggs also began shooting.

Tifa felt a bullet graze her arm. Instinctively, she pulled it back, falling off the commander's back as she did so. As Tifa got up, she saw that one of the regulars was now using him as a shield for bullets. Out of the corner of her eye, Tifa saw one of her customers fall dead, dropping the pistol he had been shooting. A soldier, trying to flee the bar, accidentally kicked it in her direction. He was shot by Wedge, who had managed to get a mako gun, and fell down dead close to the exit. Tifa picked up the handgun and was relieved to find that there were still bullets. She aimed and shot at the struggling commander, who immediately collapsed in the man's arms.

The customer dropped his shield as it died. Tifa handed him the gun, she preferred fighting with her fists, she had more experience with them, plus it gave her more satisfaction.

Tifa turned, searching for another opponent. She saw the two remaining troopers trying to flee the bar. Jess saw them too. It appeared that during the fight, Jess had also picked up a mako gun. She quickly killed the two troopers.

The fight over, Tifa surveyed the destruction. Tables had been overturned, chairs thrown, and guns fired. Six people died that night. Only one of them was a customer.

But what Tifa found most surprising of all, was not that everybody had come to her side, but rather after everything was cleaned up, they went back to what they had been doing before. The dead bodies having been dragged out and dumped behind the bar, Tifa set about mopping up the blood. She noticed that Wedge had gathered the remaining mako guns and hid them under his seat. Tables were returned to their regular state, the chairs as well. Nobody said anything to anybody they normally wouldn't talk to. People acted as if the fight were a regular thing, when it was really far from normal.

Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge left shortly after the fight without saying anything to her. At 7 o'clock, Tifa's boss came in. By then, everything had been cleaned up. Since he didn't notice anything, Tifa decided not to mention it.

Though the bar was anything but silent, Tifa found it unusually quiet. While reflecting over the night's events, she came to the conclusion that everybody in the slums had a reason to hate Shinra, if only for the reason that they lived in the slums. After discovering this, Tifa found herself wondering what could be accomplished if everybody would just come together and fight the electrical company. It was stupid, thinking that such a thing could ever come to pass, but the thought that something could be done gave Tifa a new hope, if only a faint one.


	2. Father & Daughter

Tifa slumped down in her chair. A glass of untouched water sat on the table in front of her. She drummed her fingers as she sat thinking about the fight. She had been doing that a lot lately. She could see that scene replay in front of her eyes. It wasn't the actual fight that bothered her, in fact, that part didn't even interest her. It was what happened later, after everything had been cleaned up that intrigued her. She couldn't figure out how they could sit back down and ignore eachother after what had taken place.

Turning her head so that she was looking towards the window, Tifa drifted away from reality, allowing the fight to take place again behind her closed eyelids.

It was perhaps a couple weeks after the fight. Tifa never bothered to keep track of the days anymore. All she knew were when to leave for work, and when to come back. She let her stomach tell her if she was hungry or not. Very often she was not.

There had been no commotion after the fight. Tifa didn't know what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Neither Jessie, Biggs, nor Wedge had returned to the bar after that night. Tifa didn't mind, she preferred it if she didn't have to talk to anybody. And if they had returned to the bar, she would certainly have to talk with them. Shinra had neither talked about it on the news, nor had they sent soldiers to the bar. It was as if the whole thing hadn't happened. This was the exact same reaction the customers had had after the fight. They ignored the fact that it had ever taken place. Thinking about it led Tifa to believe that perhaps Shinra and the slums weren't as different as everyone believed.

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The people in the bar during the fight had completely ignored that it had ever happened. Shinra was now doing the same thing. The slums hated Shinra, and Shinra hated the slums. The people in both were dirty, lying bastards who couldn't care less about anything but themselves and their money. To survive in either world you HAD to be like that, there was no other way.

Tifa shook her head. _No,_ she thought. _The slums and Shinra are very different. I live in the slums! How can I say I have anything in common with them!_ A thin smile crept across her face. _How indeed? Shinra certainly can't say they have anything in common with me. _

Loud gunshots from outside brought Tifa out of her thoughts. She got up from the small card table and moved over to the window. Looking down on the scene below, she watched as Shinra troopers piled out of two company vans which had been patrolling the street.

They quickly surrounded the man firing the shots. From her vantage point, Tifa could see that he was big, probably twice as big as the Shinra troopers. It looked like he had a child on his shoulder, though Tifa couldn't be sure. The man was firing his gun like a madman. _Strange,_ Tifa thought, _it almost looks as if the bullets are coming from his arm._

They were beginning to draw a crowd now. People gathered around the soldiers, who had formed a large circle. Tifa stood up and left the apartment, deciding to go down and see for herself what all the commotion was about.

As she entered the street and pushed her way through the crowd, Tifa saw that indeed the man had a gun grafted onto his right arm where one's hand would normally be. He towered above the troopers, shooting his gun and showing no sign of surrendering. On the other side of the crowd, Tifa thought she saw Wedge, but he disappeared again before she could be sure.

Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity of hiding behind their shields, the soldiers managed to get the child off his back. This sent him into even more of a fury. Two troopers dragged the girl away while the others closed the gap to block him off.

Tifa quickly looked from the circle of soldiers to the two taking the little girl up the street. She turned her gaze back to the fight. The soldiers were once again hiding behind their shields, yet refusing to let the man out of their circle. Without knowing exactly what she was going to do, Tifa turned and ran in the direction the two troopers had gone in.

It didn't take her long to catch up. The troopers each held an arm, and had succeeded in dragging her further up the street, but the little girl seemed to be fighting them. Tifa chuckled to herself. _A miniature version of her father,_ she thought as she continued to chase the guards.

Tifa saw where they were heading. There was another van parked further up the street. They were probably going to take her to their commander.

Before they reached the van however, Tifa was upon them. She sent one of the guards to the ground with a kick to his spine. His back arched at impact, and he ended up falling face first on the ground. Seeing this, the girl broke away from the other soldier and hid behind a garbage dump in a nearby alley.

Tifa turned to deal with the other trooper. She knocked the gun out of his hand and punched him in the face. By now, the other trooper was crawling over to where he had dropped his gun. Tifa saw him out of the corner of her eye. She moved backwards and stepped on his hand. He drew his arm back and tried to knock her off her feet. Tifa didn't realize what he was doing, and fell backwards, right on top of him. The second soldier took this opportunity to retrieve his dropped gun. Tifa saw what he was doing and clambered over top of the soldier, trying to reach the other gun. She felt something pierce her arm, but paid no attention to it.

They reached the guns at the same time. Shifting her position, Tifa brought hers up to meet the mako gun of the soldier.

They remained like that for what seemed like hours, when really it was probably only a couple of minutes, max. Tifa was crouching on top of the trooper and the guard was standing up, pointing his gun at her.

As the first trooper tried to throw Tifa off his back, the other one laughed.

"I bet you don't even know how to use that thing!" he sneered.

"Would you really like to take that chance?" Tifa replied in a deadly voice.

The trooper succeeded in getting her off. Tifa fell backwards a bit, but maintained her balance and continued to crouch on the ground.

The soldier limped over to his friend. The two of them laughed boisterously at Tifa, who was awkwardly pointing her gun at the troopers.

Further down the street, Tifa could still hear gunshots, which meant the fight was still going on. She was glad, the little girl still had a father.

The girl. Her eyes wandered over the garbage dump where she was hiding. Her face looked surprisingly calm. Tifa guessed she must have seen this kind of thing a lot.

Her eyes returned to the soldiers, still laughing noisily. Tifa could not for the life of her figure out why. What was so funny about having a gun pointed at you? She smiled as she remembered something a friend had said to her once before; "Forget sleep. If I have to die, I want to die laughing."

She fired. The two troopers fell dead in an instant. The little girl winced and shifted her position. Tifa put the gun down and walked over to her. She crouched down so that she was looking her in the eye.

"Hey there, what's your name?" she asked softly.

"Marlene. Who're you?" she asked accusingly.

"I'm Tifa. Why don't you come out from there? It can't smell very nice."

She drew further back behind the dump. "Why should I?"

Tifa couldn't believe what she was hearing. This girl, Marlene, had the body of a six year old, but the attitude of a teenager. "Why would I hurt you?" she asked in her softest voice. "I just saved your life. C'mon, I'll help you find your daddy."

Marlene looked at Tifa doubtfully. "You're not one of those Shinra assholes, are you?"

Tifa's eyes widened, "Where did you learn language like that?"

"That's what my daddy calls them. You promise you'll help me find him?"

"I promise, c'mon." Tifa reached out her hand towards the little girl. Marlene looked at it for a second, then reluctantly took it.

Tifa backed up so that she could get out. She straightened the girls' pink bow, and wiped away a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

Marlene looked at her expectantly. "Well? Lets go!"

Tifa smiled sadly as she took Marlene's hand. They walked slowly down the street toward the crowds. As they walked, Tifa looked down at the little girl in the pink dress. She showed no signs of knowing what her father had gotten himself into. As they continued to walk down the street, no more gunfire was heard.

Loud footsteps thundered up the street. Three other people followed, one of them lagging slightly. "MARLENE!" a loud voice bellowed out.

Marlene looked up and let go of Tifa's hand. "Daddy!"

"Marlene!" both Marlene and her father ran towards eachother. The big man scooped her up easily and swung her around, laughing.

Tifa shook her head, trying to clear the memories of home they brought to her mind. It couldn't be helped. Marlene's cheerful laughing flooded her with good memories. Good at the time. Now, any memory of home was a painful one.

_The clock on the mantle struck six. Tifa strained her ear, listening for the footsteps she knew should be coming up the path. Sure enough, she heard her father nearing the house. Opening the door, Tifa ran outside to meet him. He picked her up and swung her around. Max, who was normally lazing by the well, jumped up beside them. Her dad put her down, and Tifa began to chase Max around the yard. Her mother came out and stood on the porch, watching them. _

_"Okay, that's enough. You're not wearing a coat and it's chilly out."_

_Tifa grinned and ran in the house. There was a fire going in the living room. Tifa lay down on the floor beside Max and picked up her book. Her dad put another log on the fire. Just like he had done the night Nibelheim burnt down…_

Tifa sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands, trying to hold back the tears she knew were coming. She felt a hand touch her shoulder. Looking up, her eyes met those of Marlene's. The young girl was looking at her with a very concerned look on her face.

"Tifa? Are you okay? You look sad."

Lost in her bittersweet memories, Tifa had once again forgotten that she wasn't alone. She looked up at the people standing around her. The big man with the gun arm was there, and so were Biggs, Jessie, and Wedge.

"Yes. I'm fine. I was just reminded of home, that's all." She stood up, wobbling slightly.

"Are you sure?" the big man asked, taking a step closer.

Tifa backed away from him. "Yes, really, I'm fine. I think I'm just going to go home… I mean, back to my apartment." She backed away from them, clutching her right arm.

"You don't look fine. Let me take a look at that arm," Jess said, moving towards her and reaching out.

"No!" Tifa jerked away. "Really, I'm fine. I don't want to be a burden to anybody. I'm alright, please."

"Are you sure you don't want Jess to look at your arm? She's pretty good at that kinda thing." Biggs said.

"No, really, I'm fine. Please, just leave me alone. I want to be alone."

"Alright, but I really think Jess should take a look at your arm."

"No, it's alright, just a scratch. Maybe I'll, I'll see you later. Okay? Bye." She ran past them and down the street.

They all turned and watched her go, shaking their heads. She hadn't gotten very far when she stumbled. Tifa recovered her balance though, and began walking down the street, crossing over at random places and holding her arms out for balance. Finally, she collapsed onto the street.

Jess swore and jogged down the street towards her. The others followed suit.

She rolled Tifa onto her back and examined her right arm. "Poison," she stated grimly.

"How can you tell?" Marlene asked quietly.

Jess dabbed her finger on the wound, getting a bit of blood on it. She held the finger out to Marlene. "See how it has little swirls of green in it? That means she was poisoned by mako. The stuff is very dangerous. Only if you build up a resistance to it over time would you have a chance of surviving a large amount of it in your blood stream. Shinra soldiers carry pens of it, almost. I have a couple back home. Maybe I'll show you how they work later. Right now, we need to get Tifa to a doctor. Does anybody have any antidote with them?"

"I might." Wedge searched his pockets, finally producing a small vial of clear paste.

"These things only work short-term. But it'll do until we get her to a proper doctor." She looked up, "Barret? Can you carry her? There's a small doctor's office a couple blocks away from here," Jess said, dabbing the paste on Tifa's wound.

"Sure." Barret picked the young teenager up easily and followed Jess, Biggs, and Wedge down the street. Marlene ran alongside her father holding Tifa's limp hand.

_"Will she be alright?"_

_"I don't know. All we can do is hope that the mako is retrievable. Down here, we don't have anything better to give her but new antidotes every couple of hours."_

_"I hope she gets better."_

_"There's a good chance that she will. I'm curious about that scar though."_

_"Scar?"_

_"Yes, the one running across her chest. It looks like the cut was very deep. If she survived that, I'm sure she can pull through this."_

_"I hope so."_

Tifa opened her eyes slowly. Other than a throbbing pain in her arm, she felt rather refreshed. Sitting up, she looked around the room for the people whose voices she had heard, but couldn't find them.

The room itself was surprisingly clean. There was a window by the bed which looked out onto the street. The bed was positioned so that the large metal door was behind her. On the opposite wall, there was a desk with some scattered papers on it. Above the desk were vials of several different medicines, which were carefully arranged on three plain wooden shelves. The lamp on the desk provided the only light in the small office. As she cast her eyes about the room, Tifa noticed another light suspended from the ceiling on the opposite side of the room.

Wanting to stretch her legs, Tifa threw the thin covers off and stood up. She went to walk over to the door, but stubbed her right toe on a chair which sat beside the bed. Crying out in pain, Tifa held her toe and hopped over towards the door.

The three people in the other room heard her yell, and went to check on her. They opened the door just as Tifa reached it. Not expecting the door to open, Tifa crashed right into it and was sent flying to the floor.

"Are you alright?" a man asked, crouching down beside her.

Tifa sat up and put a hand to her head. "Yeah, I'm okay, I think. My head hurts now though."

"I'm sorry about that. We didn't know you were there."

"It's okay. No permanent damage done, I hope." She looked up at Marlene and her father who were standing just inside the door. Still holding her head, Tifa stood up and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Maybe you should lie down some more," the doctor suggested.

"No, I'm fine." She looked over at Marlene, "What are you two doing here?"

"Marlene was worried 'bout you, and wanted to stay 'till you woke up," the man answered.

"Oh, thanks. But you didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, well, I owe ya one fer savin' Marlene."

"It was no big deal. To tell you the truth, I was afraid you'd gotten yourself killed."

"Nah, Biggs, Jessie an' Wedge helped me out with those soldiers. We didn't really meet. I'm Barret, an' this here's Marlene."

"I'm Tifa."

"Yeah, Marlene told me. Listen, thanks fer savin' her." Turning to the doctor, he said, "Hey doc! How much are all these antidotes gonna cost?"

"500 gil."

"500 gil! That's a rip-off! You only gave her three!"

"Gotta make a living somehow."

Grumbling, Barret stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Counting off five hundred, he handed them to the doctor, still complaining about being ripped off.

"You don't have to do that you know," Tifa protested standing up again.

"You saved Marlene, so I'm payin' fer your damn medicine!"

"I can pay for myself."

"Yeah? Where's your money?"

"Well, I don't have any here, but I'm sure my boss will give me a loan or something."

"No. I'm payin' fer your medicine. Listen, Tifa right? Me'n the others have been talkin'. Shinra's destroying the planet with their goddamn mako reactors. It's about time someone did sumthin'. We're all meetin' at The Black Hole. Why don't ya join us?"

"I work at The Black Hole. Something tells me I'll be a little busy. Why are you asking me anyway?"

Barret moved over to where Marlene stood by the door and picked her up. "Ya had to have had a reason to go after those two guards. No one else was. Even if you're working, drop by the table to see what we're talkin' about. Ya might want to get in on it. Say bye to Tifa Marlene," he said, looking up at her.

"Bye Tifa!"

"Bye Marlene."

The two left the room, and walked out into the street. Tifa shook her head, and after thanking the doctor again, left as well. Walking home, Tifa thought about what Barret had said. He'd hinted heavily along the lines of a rebel group. Whatever crazy Shinra-defying plans he had, Tifa vowed to stay out of it. She'd gotten into enough trouble with Shinra already. The last thing she needed was more.


	3. Kill the Survivor

Rude looked up at the large sign hanging over the bar. The Black Hole. He had heard of it before, but had never gone to it because of its distance from his apartment. The bar was one of the more popular ones in Sector Seven, though Rude could not see why.

It stood on a large wooden deck with three steps leading up to it. From where he was standing, Rude could see that part of the deck had been removed in order to try and fix the building. This resulted in holes in the deck from where the boards had been taken. Though the building had at one point been painted a mustard yellow, the pollution under the plate had stained it brown.

Rudes' eyes traveled up the rotting steps, and landed on the western-style doors. Through them, he could see into the bar. There were a couple tables scattered about the room, though for the most part they didn't have proper chairs. Customers had to sit on wooden boxes that may have at one point held food. The only chairs with backs were already taken.

Most of the customers sat on stools at the bar. A TV showing sports highlights seemed to hold their attention. One man forced his gaze away from the screen as he realized that he was out of booze. Pounding on the bar, he quickly caught the attention of the waitress. She poured him another drink, then went back to re-arranging the many bottles of liquor that sat behind the bar.

Rude reached into his pocket and pulled out his favorite pair of sunglasses. It was dark outside, and though the lights inside were not as bright as they could be, he thought it best to put them on anyway. Besides, he liked the professional feeling they gave him.

_This is it Rude,_ he thought to himself. _It's all come down to this one test. You mess this up an' you'll never get outta this joint. _His orders had been simple enough; if you want to be a Turk, kill the survivor. That was all there was to it. He didn't have to know why Shinra wanted this person dead, he just had to kill them. Ask no questions, just do as you're told. His hand moved to the gun they had given him, checking to make sure it was there for about the tenth time that night.

"Dead men don't talk," he muttered under his breath. Running his hand once over his shaved head, he climbed the rotting steps and entered the bar.

Tifa stood watching them from behind the bar. She had tried to make herself look busy, first by arranging all the bottles of liquor in alphabetical order, then by trying to make conversation with her new customer. But she had nothing to do now, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was curios as to what they were talking about.

They had been at the bar for about half an hour, and though Tifa had told them she wanted nothing to do with whatever they were planning, she was beginning to have second thoughts.

Shinra had destroyed her hometown, killed her father and her friends, had taken everything away from her. But their cruelty didn't stop there. Trying to find more ways to torture her, they had somehow tricked Zangan into bringing her to Midgar, where she would be forever stuck in a stinky, poorly lit prison.

Of course, thinking about one's problems never made them go away, or even get better. Considering all Shinra had done to her, didn't she have more than enough reasons to fight them?

Tifa bit the inside of her lip. _No,_ she decided. _I won't settle for just committing random acts of violence. I'm going to do something, and the only way to accomplish anything is to work with others. _

Coming out from behind the bar, Tifa walked over to the table where the five of them sat.

Rude took a sip of his beer. Somewhere in this bar, was his prey. Rude felt like slapping himself. He was beginning to sound like a detective on one of those bad cop shows.

—"He's out there somewhere."

"Who is detective?"

"The one cursed to be followed by creepy music, just like I'm cursed to say these corny lines."—

Rude chuckled to himself, _Gotta love those parodies. _

Turning around on his stool, he looked at the customers not seated at the bar. There were five of them sitting at the largest of the three tables. They seemed to have something spread out on it, and were leaning over to look at it.

The waitress had joined them, and was leaning over the big man's shoulder. She stood in between him and the little girl. Upon noticing that the large man seemed to have replaced his hand with a gun, Rude studied him more carefully, then smirked.

He drew his gun and carefully adjusted his aim. With all of them looking down at the table, Rude figured nobody would notice him. Without warning, the little girl turned around and looked up at the TV, her eyes passing the would-be Turk. It was too late for him to hide his gun, the brat had already noticed him.

"Daddy look out!" she screamed, and ran around the waitress to the big man.

Rude swore and quickly pulled the trigger, but he missed his target because everybody had reacted quickly and ducked down under the table.

The large man got up and began firing his own gun like a maniac. The other people were all hiding under the table, the little brat having been pulled under last.

Throwing his arms over his head, Rude ran out of the bar and down the street. Needless to say, it was not the way he had hoped the night would go.

"What the hell was that about!"

The gunman had fled the bar, dropping his pistol as he left. Biggs walked over, holding his head where he had bumped it on the table, and gingerly picked up the gun. He looked at it for a moment, then handed it to Tifa.

"You should probably keep this. There seem to be more an' more fights in this bar, and the number's probably just gonna keep goin' up."

Tifa nodded and took the gun. She walked over behind the counter and placed it carefully in a small drawer.

It was only after Tifa had rejoined them that the rest of the group noticed Marlene hadn't yet gotten out from underneath the table. Barret was crouched down in front of her, speaking quietly. Marlene, who was holding her left shoulder and sniffling, allowed Barret to remove her hand. He looked at the shoulder for a second and took the time to swear before turning around.

"Get me a potion," he growled.

"Marlene was hit?" Jess asked, moving towards him.

Barret pushed her away. "Get me a potion, NOW!"

Tifa ran behind the counter, and hurriedly withdrew the small supply of healing potions the Boss kept for emergencies. Fumbling with them, she walked quickly back over to Barret, who had lifted Marlene up onto the table.

"H-here," she said, shoving the potions into his hand.

Without acknowledging her, Barret slipped part of the bloodstained dress off Marlene's shoulder. Cursing, he carefully opened the first vial and dabbed some onto his finger, and then onto the bullet wound.

Marlene winced as the potion started to take effect. "That stings," she said in a small voice.

"Good." Barret grunted. After applying both the potions Tifa had given him, Barret turned to the others, who were standing just behind him, craning their necks to see how bad Marlene's wound was.

All six jumped as the doors swung open and Tifa's boss walked in. Tifa checked the clock above the bar, before turning to the large man that stood in the doorway.

He was tall, and wore black jeans with a black tank. His shoulder length blond hair hung in thick, greasy clumps.

He walked in past Barret and Marlene to the temporarily stunned Tifa.

"What happened here?" he asked, his smooth voice hiding whether he was angry or not.

"There was a man, um, a new customer, he just turned around and shot at them. Um, the little girl was hit before they managed to get her under the table. Then the, um, the big man there, Barret, he got up and chased the guy out by shooting with his gunarm. Yeah, so I gave him a couple potions for his daughter, if you don't mind."

Black nodded and turned to Barret and Marlene. "Is she alright?" he asked.

"She'll be okay. I'm gonna take her home now though."

"Probably a good idea. What did the man look like Tifa?" he asked, turning back to face her.

"He was tall, and bald, and was wearing his sunglasses, so I couldn't see his eyes. Yeah, he looked better off than most people around here, like he had just gotten a lot of money or something."

"Did you recognize him?"

"No. I've never seen him before."

"If he comes in here again, I want you to call me immediately. I don't need people like that in my bar."

"Yes sir."

Barret picked up Marlene and headed towards the doors. Tifa ran around her friends and Black towards him.

"Barret? Do you know why that guy was shooting at you?"

"I dunno. Must be sumthin' 'bout Corel."

"What about Corel?"

"Later."

"Kay. Marlene, you get better, okay?"

She nodded weakly before burying her face in her father's shoulder.

"Thanks fer thu potions," he said before walking out of the bar.

Jess, Biggs, and Wedge looked at each other for a moment, then put the chairs back upright and sat down at the table.

Black stuck around to help Tifa out as the bar got busier, and didn't talk about the incident with the gunman for the rest of the night. Tifa didn't go over to see Jess, Biggs, and Wedge for the rest of the night, instead opting to remain working behind the bar.

Working with her boss proved to be less interesting than making plans for rebellion, so Tifa started taking particular interest in Black's actions. She noticed that his eyes darted about the room quickly, despite the calm and composed manner in which he held himself. It was obvious that he was anxious for the mysterious bald man to return to the bar. Though Tifa was not looking forward nearly as much to his return, she did catch herself often looking over towards the old, rotting doors of the Black Hole, continuously asking herself the same question, what did that man want with Barret and Marlene?

Rude slumped down on his bed, the thin pillows that propped him up slipping down. He cast a sideways glance at the telephone that sat on the table beside his bed. _I should call_, he thought, _but how can I tell them I failed? _

Pushing himself up to a sitting position again, Rude played with his sunglasses as he continued to debate whether or not he should call. Fed up, Rude tossed the black shades onto the bed beside him. _I need a drink_, he thought, standing up.

Leaving the dark bedroom, Rude walked with heavy steps over to the kitchen. Turning the light on, he walked over to the beer-filled fridge. Opening the door, he took out a drink then walked back into the bedroom, turning the kitchen light out as he left.

Rude had lived in the slums his whole life; his mother was a whore who spent all her money on drugs. A pimp had killed her after she had gotten pregnant and tried to dump the baby on him. Rude's father, a Shinra employee, had brought him up to survive in the slums, but rebels shot him just last week when he was riding the train home from work. Rude had never cared much for his father, he was an arrogant asshole who always managed to put the blame elsewhere, but for some reason, his death had sparked something in Rude.

Three days after his death, Rude had called up Shinra Headquarters. He had gone in for an interview two days ago, and was given an initiation mission. The orders Heidigger had given him were simple and to the point. Kill the survivor and we'll make you a Turk. They had given him all the necessary information, he just had to go there and kill the damn person.

But he'd botched it. He'd missed his shot because of that stupid little brat who had turned around to watch the TV. If it weren't for her, he'd probably be a Turk by now. Maybe he'd kill her too.

The phone rang, causing Rude to jump. He propped himself back up and answered it.

"Did you do it?"

Though he didn't recognize the voice, he knew exactly what they were talking about.

"No, I missed."

"It doesn't look very good if an aspiring Turk misses his shot."

"I know, but I wasn't expecting there to be a man with a gunarm there."

"Gunarm?"

"He had a gun grafted onto his right arm in place of a hand. When I missed he got up and began shooting. I had to run out and didn't get to fire anymore shots."

"The man's name is Barret Wallace, Scarlet ran into him when she was destroying Corel. He's since moved to Midgar and there are rumors that he might be starting a rebel group. Keep your eye out for him."

"Yes sir."

"Don't call me sir, I'm not your boss yet. Kill that bitch and I might be," he hung up.

Rude put the phone back down and took another drink of his beer. _Guess I didn't have to call after all,_ he thought. He reached into his coat to retrieve his gun, and found it not there. Frantically, he searched both his coat and his pants and found only an old gum wrapper. He opened the drawer to the bedside table, but it wasn't there either. He searched the entire apartment, but the gun was nowhere to be found.

Rude tried to think back to what had happened at the bar. He had fired the gun, and now he didn't have it. When had he lost the damn thing? He had kept it in his coat pocket specifically so that it wouldn't fall out. He must have dropped it, and the last time he had held it in his hand was when he was firing. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember putting it back inside his jacket. The gun must be somewhere in the bar still. Rude knew he couldn't go back after what had happened that night. He decided to lay low and go back to the bar in a couple days, retrieve his gun, and shoot the girl sometime later.

_Fuck. This is the last thing I need,_ he thought, as he trudged back into his bedroom. He sat back down on the bed, and picked his beer up again. _Oh well, nothing good is ever easy, right?_

Tifa ran down the dust road towards The Black Hole. She was supposed to open the bar twenty minutes ago. Praying that Black wouldn't find out, she ran past the regular who was sitting on the steps.

"Hey Teef, you're late," he said as rushed past him.

"I know, I lost track of the time," she said, fumbling for the keys to the bar.

"Black ain't gonna like that."

"Black ain't gonna find out if you don't tell him."

"What'll ya give me?"

Tifa rolled her eyes. "First drink is on the house."

"You got yerself a deal girl!"

Tifa got the doors open and walked into the bar. The man stood up and dusted his pants off before following her in.

It was dirty, which was nothing new. The bar always seemed to be dirty, probably because nobody ever bothered to clean it up. All the stools and boxes were gathered around the largest of the tables. While empty beer bottles and shot glasses adorned its surface. Tifa picked up some of the glasses and brought them with her behind the counter.

The man went straight to his favorite barstool, turning around on it as he watched Tifa get the place ready.

"So when am I gonna get my drink?"

"When we're open for business."

"I thought you were open once you came in."

"I have to get the place ready first. Why are you here so early

anyway?" Tifa asked as she moved the boxes and stools over to the other tables.

"Had a fight with the missus."

"Uh-huh. What now?"

"She's complaining I drink too much! Can you believe that?"

"Where she gets that idea I'll never know," Tifa said, the sarcasm in her voice evident. "Let me get this straight; she complains that you drink too much, so you come over here even earlier to drink?"

"A man's gotta have his drink," he stated adamantly.

"Oh I agree completely, your plan of action for getting back on her good side doesn't seem like it's gonna work though."

"Yer only agreeing wit' me cuz you'd be outta business otherwise."

"You're right there." Grabbing the rest of the shot glasses, Tifa walked around the bar, turned the TV on, and then faced her customer. "So what can I get you?" she asked, putting both hands down on the counter and leaning slightly forward.

"Anything hard."

Turning around, Tifa poured the man his drink then sat down on her stool behind the bar. Taking his booze in one gulp the man set his shot glass down on the bar heavily.

"Another one," he demanded.

Tifa raised an eyebrow, and poured the man another drink. The doors opened and two more men walked in. They sat down at one of the tables and signaled for Tifa to go over.

She walked around the bar and towards the two men. Recognizing them as regulars, she smiled and shook her head. Everybody seemed to be coming in earlier than usual today.

The taller of the two men was one of Black's buddies from the

gym. He wore his usual exercise outfit, blue sweats and a yellow T-shirt. His hair was black on the bottom half, then bleached lightly at the top. His chin seemed to disappear into his thick neck. Tifa wouldn't have been surprised if he was on steroids. His huge, bulging muscles seemed to scream drugs. It was really quite disgusting to look at. His skin was bronzed, as if he'd been tanning a lot. Tifa wondered what he used, most of the people in the slums were pale because they didn't get any sun. You could make a lot of money selling bronzer or some form of Vitamin D down in the slums.

The other one was much shorter compared to his friend. He wore a denim jacket, done up so you couldn't see the shirt underneath, and faded jeans. He was chubby, leaning on the fat side. His fingers were short and thick and he scratched his face an awful lot with them. He was doing so now, giving Tifa an ugly grin as she walked over.

"And what can I get you two?" she asked, leaning against the table.

"Two beers," the shorter man said, holding up a couple gnarled fingers.

"Hey, is your kitchen open yet?" the other asked.

"No, the cook isn't here," she answered, walking back towards the bar to get the men their drinks.

"That sucks."

"Hey, that's what you get for coming early!" she walked back over and set the two beers down on the table. "Promise me you won't get too drunk tonight, I don't want any trouble this time."

"Oh yeah, I remember a couple nights ago when that bald guy there shot at those people! He hit the little girl right? How is she?" the man asked, tapping his misshapen fingers on the table.

"Uh, she's okay. The doctor said it would heal. Why?"

"Just wondering. I ain't allowed to be concerned about others now?"

"No, it's just, never mind."

She turned and went back behind the counter. More customers came in, along with the cook, whose food prompted some to leave. The night went on without a hitch, leaving Tifa to think about what the man had said. She shook her head, _It's just that nobody's ever cared before…_

It had been almost a week since Rude had first missed his shot, both in aim, and for the job. He had decided against going back to the bar to retrieve his lost gun. The waitress had probably told her boss, who had probably told his other employees, who would probably be on the alert for anyone who so much as had a shaved head. Rude shook his head, what were the slums coming to?

He pushed his way through the crowds of Wall Market, heading deeper into Sector Six. He passed the restaurant, making a note that they were giving away free Pharmacy Coupons. He quickened his pace as he neared the dress shop, up ahead, not too far, just past the gym, was his destination.

When he came to heaps of garbage, he knew he was almost there. The old man who owned the Weapon Shop had a habit of collecting useless junk, and even hired people to sort through it.

Rude passed one man who was probably hired to do just that. He wore black pants and a black shirt. His clothes matched his hair, which was long, and held back from his face by a red bandana. When Rude passed, he stopped what he was doing to watch him walk by. Rude didn't like the way the man was looking at him, there was hostility in his gaze as he shifted his position atop the garbage to get a better view.

Rude entered the Weapon Shop, still having the feeling that someone was going to come up behind him and stab him in the back. He desperately wished he had a gun, but hey, that's what he was here to get, right?

The Weapons Shop in Wall Market was a strange place. As soon as you walked in, you noticed a chain-link fence that separated you from the merchandise. Half of the store was for business, while the other half was where the owner worked on repairing the garbage he kept outside. He was working on a tank when Rude came in.

Seeing that nobody was in the business half of the store, Rude walked over towards the owner.

"Hey, I need a gun."

"Business is on the other side of the store," the man said, not looking up from his work.

"There's nobody over there."

"Biggs!"

Rude turned around to see the same man who was glaring at him before walk into the store. He pushed past Rude and through the gate that was the only way to get on the other side of the fence.

Being careful not to step on any of the garbage lying around, "Biggs" placed a hand down on the tank for support as he half hopped, half tiptoed around to the business side of the store.

"What can I get you?" he asked, still glaring. He seemed to be sizing Rude up in a rather hostile way.

The tingling in his back returned, and Rude almost left the store. He stopped himself, put his sunglasses on, and answered. _Some Turk you'll be, Rude,_ he thought to himself. He immediately pushed the thought from his mind, and focused instead at returning the young man's glare.

"I need a gun."

"How much money you got?"

"600."

"You wanna spend it all?"

"You got a gun worth 600 gil?"

The owner looked up at the two men. If you just looked at them, you would think they were two regular guys, one of which was trying to make a sale. But the owner knew better. He had been listening before he looked up, and had heard the hostility with which the men spoke to one another. He had a sneaking suspicion that the bald customer had something in mind for Biggs with that gun he was gonna buy, and that Biggs knew it.

"I got a 600 gil gun," Biggs said, opening a drawer and pulling one out.

"I'll take it."

"Not many people in the slums can afford a 600 gil gun. You just got a raise or something?"

"I don't see how it's any business of yours."

Biggs smirked and handed Rude the gun. Rude handed over the money and turned to leave, placing the gun safely in his coat pocket.

"Need any clips for that?" Biggs called.

Rude ignored him and walked out of the store. He had clips at home.


	4. Trust No One

"Are you sure?"

"Almost positive. He came into the shop, put his sunglasses on, and bought a gun."

"How much was it?"

"I dunno. It was expensive, maybe around 600?"

"You're sure it was him then?"

"Sure as I can be."

It seemed like ages ago that Marlene had been shot, when really it wasn't even a week. Tifa had tried to forget about it; Marlene's shoulder had healed, there was no reason to remember it anymore. But Barret hadn't let her forget. Barret never let her forget.

He brought it up over and over again, saying it was all Shinra's doin', an' they were destroying the planet, and all that. He would talk about the burning of Corel, even though it was painful for him, at least five times a week. Tifa didn't want to hear it. Towns burning, it reminded her too much of Nibelheim.

Sometimes, she wondered if he kept bringing Corel up because it was the only way he could deal with it all. But if that was the case, at the very least he could be more considerate towards her. Couldn't he tell that she didn't want to hear it?

None of the others seemed to mind; Barret's ranting was like some kind of battle call for them. Tifa began to think there was something wrong with her, not being affected by his strong speeches, so she spent her time with the only other person who minded; Marlene.

There was much more to the auburn-haired angel than one saw on the surface. She was innocent, and yet somehow not. Though it often seemed her only concern was her favorite doll's hair, Tifa knew that the six-year-old was very aware of all the corruption around her.

Yet she remained innocent. She was sweet and beautiful, and had a voice resembling that of an angel. It was in the way she spoke; she was curious about everything, but asked questions as if she already knew the answer.

They were like sisters, though for Barret's sake Marlene called her "Auntie Tifa". It was strange, being called an aunt when she was only ten years her senior, but Barret would be Barret, and it was best to keep him happy. The two of them would usually play cards while he organized "the troops". Biggs once commented on how she was more a baby-sitter than a terrorist, and Tifa agreed with him to some extent, though she never said so.

Marlene wasn't just a baby-sitting charge; she was a lesson in survival. The girl's beauty was a mystery to Tifa, having lost any beauty she once had ages ago. Midgar had taken it. It had taken the beauty of many children as well. Why not Marlene? What was different about her? Maybe, if she spent enough time with her, she could regain a little bit of her own lost beauty, lost happiness.

Barret didn't understand her. Nobody seemed to, but Barret was a little more important than the others. Somehow, someway, he had managed to raise this angel, and he didn't even realize it.

Granted, he had taken over the role of a father figure to her, if only because of her relationship with Marlene. He tried hard, though why he bothered remained a mystery. There were lots of mysteries around those two.

They were all there then, Barret, Marlene, Jessie, Biggs and Wedge. Biggs was saying how he had sold the bald shooter another gun. Jess was toying with the one he had dropped, digesting the information as they all were. Tifa didn't really see the point, but she listened all the same.

"You're sure you have no idea why he would shoot at you Barret?" Jess asked, turning to look at the big man.

"Sure I'm sure! I've said that a hundred times already, haven't I?"

"I didn't, —"

"Sure ya didn't! Ya never mean anything by it! That's what you wuz gonna say, wasn't it?"

"Barret —"

"What if he comes back? What if he shoots at Marlene again?"

"Then we'll deal with him Barret, but it would help us if we knew why he was after you."

"No it wouldn't! None of that shit matters! All that matters is that some Shinra asshole has gotten it in his head to kill either me or my girl!"

"Barret, we should get going," Biggs said calmly, looking at his watch. "Maybe we can find this guy before he finds you, huh? Jess can run a search on her computer and try an' find him, right Jess?" he looked over at her.

"Well, actually there's not —"

"Right, Jess?" he asked again, stressing the words.

"Uh, yeah, there's probably some sort of search I can run through the database. It may not give us the best results, but it's worth a shot."

Barret grunted. "Alright, lets go run this search-thing. C'mon Marlene, we're leavin'. Say g'night tuh yer aunt."

"'Night Auntie Tifa," the girl said, walking over to her dad and holding her arms up so he could lift her onto his huge shoulders.

"'Night Marlene."

"G'night Teef," Barret said, turning towards the door.

"Night Barret, see ya guys."

"Bye," Wedge said, waving as he walked out of the bar. Jess and Biggs followed, Jess muttering under her breath to Biggs, who tried his best to escape her and catch up to Barret and Marlene.

Tifa smiled a little, then walked back behind the bar to serve some customers. Black had called earlier to say he wouldn't be coming in that night, so Tifa had been free to speak to her friends without fear of losing her job.

It was probably about an hour later when someone walked up to the bar and tapped on it to get her attention.

Tifa was crouched down on the ground with her back to the counter so she couldn't see who it was, but by the grunts and mutterings of the other customers, she could tell it was no one good. Tifa's hand reached for the frying pan, as she tried to mentally calculate how far away the drawer with the gun was. Deciding that she could she could take care of any problem with her fists, she left the frying pan on the shelf, and, rising slowly, turned around to face whoever wanted her attention.

She soon found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Caught completely off guard, Tifa fumbled around for the handle to the drawer that held the gun. The other customers shifted around in their seats, wanting to do something, but knowing what would happen if they did.

Black and four of his buddies were there, the former holding the gun up in her face. Tifa thought she had never seen him so out of it. He was drunk, that much was certain. He didn't look good, as if he'd been beaten up or something. She wondered who could possibly beat up the massive owner of The Black Hole.

"What d'you think yer doin'?" he growled, his voice slightly slurred.

Mouth wide open, she searched for the words, but none came out.

"My buddies tell me yer part o'some rebel group. Izzat right?"

Tifa looked desperately over at the customers, but they only shrugged and held their hands up. There was nothing they could do.

"I don't need no rebels in my bar," he continued, waving the gun in her face.

"B-but Black, I'm not a rebel. I mean, c'mon, me? I just, I look after this girl sometimes; her dad's been talking about starting up a group. I wouldn't join even if he did."

"Yer lyin'."

"No! I'm not! Honest!"

"Anyone who says 'honest' is lyin'," one of his friends said. The others muttered in agreement.

"Really, Black, c'mon, snap out of it. I'm not a rebel. I don't want anything to do with that kind of thing." She was backed up against all the bottles, wishing she had gone for the gun. There was no point wishing, her only chance now was if someone else made the first move. None of the customers wanted to.

"I don't need no rebels in my bar!" he repeated, yelling now. He stopped waving the gun and aimed it right at her. "I don't need no trouble. I've lost good business cuz of you. Those last two fights; they were all your fault! You're costing me money bitch!"

She saw him get ready to fire and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look. Hoping she could duck down in time, she held tightly onto the shelf and prayed that someone would help her out.

The gunshot came and went without a bit of pain. Tifa slumped down on the floor and gasped for breath. Eyes still tightly shut, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and leaned against shelves.

This was different than in the reactor. Not because it was a gun instead of a sword, but because there was no pain accompanied with the bullet. The darkness that surrounded her wasn't as thick as it was last time; it no longer suffocated her. It was light, almost unsubstantial. Tifa felt as if she could just float around in it. It was so peaceful; she wondered where her friends were.

A voice, but it was one she didn't know. It was cold, and uncaring. Where was it coming from? Why wasn't it happy to see her?

"Get up. You're not dead."

She opened her eyes slowly, and immediately shut them again. Minutes passed before she dared to open her eyes again. When she did, it was to the same sight as before.

Black had fallen over the counter, eyes wide open, staring at her. His mouth was hanging open a little, and blood was dripping out of it. Whoever had shot the bullet, they hadn't hit her.

She stood up, and nervously shoved her former boss off the counter. Taking a deep breath, she took in the scene around her. Two of Black's four friends were also lying dead on the ground. Two of the customers were dragging out a third; Tifa recognized one of them as the man with short, misshapen fingers. He was dragging out his friend.

Pushing hair back from her face, she grabbed the gun still in the drawer and followed the two of them outside.

They dumped him around back, where the bodies from previous fights lay. They were back in the bar, presumably to retrieve another body, before her eyes turned to the only other person alive there; the man who had shot Marlene.

He looked at her for a moment before walking over. Taking off his sunglasses, he put them away in his coat pocket and took the gun from her shaking hand.

"You cost me a lot of money you know," he said in his calm, cold, voice.

Tifa recognized it as the one that had informed her that she was not dead. Her mind still not working properly, no reply came to mind. She stayed silent, going over all the things Zangan had ever taught her.

Seeing that she was not going to reply, he continued. "You could have died tonight."

"I would've ducked," she said, trying her best to match his cold tone.

"Didn't look like it when I walked in," he paused. "Why did he want to kill you anyway?"

"Said I cost him money."

"You cost me money."

"He was drunk."

"So am I."

"You don't look it."

He laughed and walked past her towards the bar. "In that case, how 'bout getting me a drink?"

"We're closing for the night."

"I saved your life."

"We're closing early."

He ignored her and walked into the bar, still holding the gun in his right hand. Taking a deep breath, she followed him inside.

Some more regulars had pitched in with the cleanup effort, and the rest of the bodies were being dragged out around back. She stopped walking and watched them pass, trying to suppress a shiver. Shaking the sight from mind, she hurried to catch up with the bald man.

He walked over to the bar, reached over, and opened up the drawer. Dropping the gun inside, he sat down on a stool and turned around to face her.

"So where's my beer?" he asked, reaching back into his pocket for his sunglasses.

"We're closing early, I'm not selling anymore drinks," she walked around the bar and began cleaning up.

"I could kill you, you know."

"So what?"

"You don't care about your life?"

"Sure I do, but there's not a helluva lot good about it, so I say, go for it."

She was risking it, and she knew it. This man had tried to kill Barret; he could do the same thing to her. If it weren't for the fact that her instinct told her he was no immediate threat, she'd probably be reaching for the gun right about then.

He chuckled, and looked up at the clock. "When's your shift over?"

She followed his gaze and looked at the clock, it read 10:55. "Five minutes," she answered, wiping the blood off the counter with a wet cloth.

"Come for a walk with me."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to."

"I think I'll pass, thanks."

"Come for a walk with me."

"Why? So you can kill me?"

"So I can help you."

"I don't need help."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't." She was getting a little fed up with this stranger.

Who asked him to save her life? And what made him think he knew everything about her?

He stayed silent for a bit, then stood up and began moving the boxes back to their original positions. By then, everybody else had left the bar. The other customers came back in, and after talking to her quietly for a bit, left as well.

He stayed. When she finished cleaning up, she went outside to lock the doors. Angie, her replacement, was walking up the road, and Tifa explained everything to her.

Angie was a dramatist, so Tifa wasn't surprised when she "nearly fainted" after being told that Black had tried to kill her.

"Us waitresses need to stick together, eh? C'mon, I'll take you somewhere to get your mind off of it."

"No, I'm fine. Look, I'm gonna try and open the bar tomorrow night, so can you come in for your regular shift?"

"There's no one to pay us! Are you insane?"

"We can run it ourselves, can't we?"

"You're weird. You sure Black didn't get your brain or something'?"

"I'm sure."

"Whatever, look, if we're out of business, I'm outta here. See ya 'round Teef."

"Bye."

Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder with an air of superiority, Angie waltzed back down the road towards the station.

Tifa cast a glance towards the stairs. He was still there, hidden in the shadows. Doing her best to ignore him, she took a deep breath and walked down the stairs, refusing to look his way.

"I wasn't aiming for the little girl," he said, his voice coming as if from nowhere.

She stopped, but didn't turn around. "You were aiming for her father."

"No, not him either."

"Then who were you aiming for?"

He walked out and put a hand on her shoulder, but didn't say anything. Walking past her, he headed towards Sector Six and said, "Come for a walk with me."

"I can't believe you made me do that! Biggs, you're gonna pay for this." Jess said. She was seated on the ground outside the Pharmacy in Wall Market. Her, Biggs and Wedge had just escaped from the clutches of Barret, who had forced Jess to run every search possible on her computer for over an hour.

"It was past Marlene's bedtime."

She snorted, "I somehow find it hard to believe that you put me

through all that just cuz it was past the little girl's bed time."

"Yeah Biggs, what's the real reason?"

He reached into his pocket and took out a small, crumpled piece of paper. Waving it in their faces, Biggs made sure to keep it just out of reach. Wedge ran around Jess and snatched it away.

He looked down at it and examined the contents. "Who's number?"

"None of your business," he said, grabbing it back. "I'll tell ya one thing though, it was well worth spending an hour with Barret."

"I don't get it, when did ya meet her?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out." He looked over at Jess, who was inspecting a scrap piece of metal she had found lying on the ground. "Hey, what do you think's up with Tifa?"

"What d'you mean?" Wedge asked, looking back over at Biggs.

"Well, she didn't say anything all night, 'cept to Marlene. It's like she only joined so she could hang out with a little brat."

"I dunno, it's kinda weird though."

"She didn't want to join us; Barret probably just talked her into it. We don't even know her," he continued.

"We don't know Barret either," Jess said quietly.

"You stickin' up for her Jess?"

"No, not really."

Wedge snorted loudly, obviously not believing her.

Jess looked over at him angrily, "Hey, you got a problem or sumthin'?"

"No, I just think it's kinda funny."

"What is?"

"You're lying skills."

"I wasn't lying!"

It was Biggs' turn to snort in disbelief. "You were so lying," he said, leaning against the entrance to the Pharmacy.

"I was not. I was only saying that—"

"Y'know Jess, sometimes I think you side with the people nobody likes, just so you have an excuse to argue."

"What! Now where the hell do you get that from?"

"I dunno. That's just the vibe I'm getting. It's either that, or you have a crush on Tifa."

"Biggs, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Why do

you have a problem with Tifa anyway? She doesn't seem that bad."

"You're defending her again," Wedge pointed out.

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Ah, now you're defending yourself."

"Shut up Biggs. Geez, you guys are so stupid."

"Typical. Now you're resorting to a weak retaliation in order to

draw the attention away from yourself."

"Biggs—"

"Hey, is that Tifa over there?" Wedge asked, craning his neck to see better.

"Who's she with?" Dropping the piece of metal she had been playing with, Jess stood up on her tiptoes trying to see.

"I dunno, it looks kinda like that guy who shot Marlene."

"Biggs, you're just trying to—"

"No, I think it might be. Look, he's bald."

"There are lots of bald people in the slums. He's probably her neighbor or something."

"Mebbe, but I'm a hundred percent sure that's the guy I sold the gun to."

Wedge nodded. "It's definitely him. Wonder what he's doing with Tifa."

"Wonder what Tifa's doing with him." Biggs muttered. Turning to Jess he added, "Care to defend her now?"

Jess glanced over at him and muttered something unintelligible before turning to watch Tifa disappear with the mysterious bald shooter in the crowds.

"Where are we going?" she asked, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

"For a walk," he answered, neither slowing nor turning.

"Pretty fast walk."

He stopped and turned to face her. "If you don't want to come, just go away."

"Well you didn't leave me much of a choice there, did you? If you weren't after Marlene or Barret, then who were you after?"

He stayed silent for a moment, looking at her through his dark sunglasses. "Curiosity killed the cat," he muttered to himself. Turning slowly, he walked away.

The apathetic crowds made way for him, unaware that they were even doing so. He walked through them unchallenged, heading even deeper into the heart of Wall Market. Tifa watched him go, then sighed and shook her head. Pushing her way through the crowds once more, she struggled to keep him in sight.

Rude stopped when he reached a little known area behind Corneo's mansion. He was away from all the hustle and bustle of the market now, and stood with his back to the entrance, waiting to see if she would follow him.

The wall of graffiti that now stood before him seemed to represent the gloomy, sometimes rebellious air of the slums. '_Fuck Shinra'_, it read in large, green spray-painted letters. A padlock sealed shut the entrance to a tunnel that had once led out of the city. Shinra had discovered it and closed it down with the help of then-struggling businessman Don Corneo. He struck a deal with the company, agreeing to help stop the illegal emigrants from opening the tunnel up again. In exchange, Shinra paid him a lot of money to keep his business afloat. Corneo got paid enough to build his mansion directly in front of the entrance, killing any hopes people in the slums may have had that they could open the tunnel again. Needless to say, Corneo was not well liked among those who hoped to get out of Midgar.

"Hey! Hey, wait up!"

"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?" he asked with just a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

She made a face and walked towards him. "What's with you eh? Why'd you bring me here, of all places?"

He nodded towards the wall. "Look at that and tell me what you see."

"Graffiti. Why?"

"Do you know who put it there?"

"People. Again, why? What does this have to do with Barret and Marlene?"

"Rebels wrote that. Not very well, but they wrote it."

"What's your point?"

"Rebels are in the slums. They—"

"That's nothing new. Look, why don't you just tell me whoever it was you were trying to kill, so I can leave?"

He said nothing, and continued to look at the massive wall of graffiti. She waited for a minute; then, convinced he wasn't going to say anything, turned around to leave.

"They killed my dad."

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. He hadn't moved since she'd gotten there, but now he was standing with his hand on the wall. _Funny,_ she thought, _I never heard him move._

An awkward silence followed his statement. Tifa moved towards him as silently as she could, not wanting to break it. She put a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head to look at her.

"Why'd they kill him?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "I didn't even like him. I don't know why I care that he's gone so suddenly."

"Because he's gone so suddenly."

He looked at her strangely, not quite understanding what she was saying.

She sighed and moved away. "You weren't ready for him to leave yet. You may not have liked him, even thought you hated him, but now that he's gone you think you may have changed your mind about him."

"Since when are you the expert on the subject?" he asked, turning and sliding down the wall so that he was sitting on the ground.

"My dad's gone too you know."

He thought about that for a minute. The idea that she could be as lost as he was startled him. He'd never thought there was anything to her. She was always just another face in the crowd.

"Did rebels do it?" he finally asked.

She shook her head. "Shinra." When he said nothing, she continued. "He was always just the guy who got mad if I stayed out past curfew. After mom died, he changed, and got too busy with his work to pay attention to me. I hated him for it I guess, but I was still sad when he died." She sniffed a little, then coughed. "I wish he were here now."

"You had a curfew?"

She glared at him. "I'm from out of town. It's a lot smaller where I come from, and yes, we all had curfews. Whether you paid attention to them was a whole other story."

"So you've lost both your parents?"

She nodded, kicking the ground with the toe of her shoe and biting her lip. Nibelheim wasn't a pleasant memory, it was a painful one.

He stood up and dusted off his pants. Walking over towards her, he stuck his hands in his pockets and was relieved to find that someone in Wall Market hadn't stolen his gun at some point. He wasn't supposed to pay for the thing in the first place.

"Do you wanna go get something to eat?" he asked.

She looked at him, puzzled by the sudden emotion in his voice and the quiet way he spoke to her. Shaking her head, she looked back down at the ground.

"Where do you live? I'll walk you home."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself."

"Maybe, but I'll walk you home anyway."

She smiled at him and nodded. He put his arm around her shoulders and the two of them walked through the crowds that parted before them. They took comfort in each other's misery, and left behind them the wall of graffiti that shrieked a warning neither saw, nor noticed. Above the '_Fuck Shinra_' was another message. It was written in sloppy writing, and seemed to be going crooked. In spray-paint the colour of blood it cried out for caution.

'Trust no one'…


	5. 5 am

The phone was ringing; he could hear it from out in the hall. The sound was alien to his ears; nobody cared enough to pay for a conversation with him. There was only one person who ever phoned, and Rude knew that it was considered a terrible inconvenience.

The phone came with the apartment; the last tenant had worked from home. He was rumored to have never ventured outside after a mysterious incident cost him his hand. He disappeared one day, and his body was found ripped to shreds days later. The published report stated that a rabid dog had killed him while he was on his way through Sector Five. That was the information given, but when Rude moved in a week later, local kids told him of the creature that had taken the man's hand, and come back for the rest of him.

The loud ringing continued and Rude, temporarily distracted by his thoughts, fumbled for his key. "Stupid rumors," he muttered to no one in particular. Opening the door, he quickly made his way to the bedroom. "Hello?"

"Took you awhile." The voice was cold, and Rude was slightly surprised to find that it sounded very much like his own.

"I just got back."

"Did you do it?"

He said nothing, thinking back to his conversation with her earlier. Her words haunted him like ghosts of the not-so-distant past. Everything she'd said about him had been true; there was no doubt about that.

"Did you do it?" the voice asked again. The words were more strained this time, Rude could tell he was getting frustrated.

Finally, he shook his head. "She wasn't working tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"She was sick and got the night off. I watched the owner, some of his friends, and her replacement die, but she wasn't there."

"Did you kill them?"

"No, the owner cracked. The bar's probably closing down now. She's gonna be harder to find."

"You know what you have to do. Find her, kill her, and Heidiggar'll make you a Turk."

He hung up. _Sure_, he thought,_ only it's not so simple anymore_.

He knew where to find her. Hell, he knew her exact address and apartment number! He also knew that she would be working a double shift at the bar the next night because of what happened. It should be easy, he probably should have killed her already, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not yet. She was the only thing standing between him and his goal, but he hadn't been able to do it.

It was because of the other things he knew, and it was those little facts, both said and unsaid, that made him lie to Tseng just then, and had prevented him from making the kill.

He knew there was a blonde-haired kid in SOLDIER who had promised to protect her, and failed; and that she was in love with him, even though she was too proud to admit it. He knew that despite her new-found friends, she couldn't help but feel terribly lonely; that the five of them had started a rebel group, and were in the process of recruiting new members. Rude also knew that she felt useless among them, even though she hadn't said so. He could tell that that was why she spent her time with the leader's daughter instead of her fellow partners in crime. She had told him about her martial arts lessons with the world famous Zangan. More importantly, he knew that Shinra was responsible for the death of her father and friends, and that they had very nearly gotten her as well. Furthermore, she had accidentally blurted out that Sephiroth was the one she blamed for it all, that he was the reason she was in Midgar. She had refused to say more, but Rude knew what it meant; she had to die because of that mysterious connection to the company's reportedly missing general.

She knew something about him, he decided. Something that Shinra was so afraid would get out that they had sent an assassin to kill her, rather than just a couple regular troopers. They wanted to make sure she was dead, and that it was done right, without risking public knowledge. The fact that he was involved in an important, top secret mission sent shivers down his spine. What would they do to him if he found out what her connection to Sephiroth was? Or if he didn't kill her at all? If it was so important to Shinra that she die, why didn't they just send someone who was already a Turk, and not risk whatever secret she held getting out to someone who wasn't loyal?

This thought brought even more questions to Rude's mind. Was he really loyal to Shinra? Or was he just playing along because he had nothing better to do? Even more strange was why he was thinking about it, period. How could one conversation with a lonely bar hostess make him question everything he had taken as irrefutable?

Dropping his coat on the bed, he left the room only to return shortly with a beer in each hand. He sat down on the edge and kicked his shoes off to a corner of the room. Opening one beer, he placed the other down by the phone and lay back against the wall. It was all too much to think about, so Rude decided that he wouldn't. He didn't need to know any of the details. Tomorrow, he would go to the bar and end this, once and for all.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Working."

"But daddy said you were supposed to be finished by now," the little girl whined.

"Not tonight Marlene," Tifa said, rushing to get an order ready.

"But I'm bored."

"And I'm working."

Marlene pouted and climbed up onto an empty stool. She sat playing with a bottle cap that had been lying on the counter. Sliding it around the bar, she looked up at the older woman with the best puppy eyes she could muster.

Tifa did her absolute best to ignore her, but eventually found herself giving in. "Tell you what," she said, stopping in front of the suddenly perky girl. "You can help me out, okay?"

"Really?"

"Sure. Why not? Right?"

The little girl grinned and ran around the bar to help. "So what can I do?"

She looked around, trying to find something for her to do now that she had recruited the girl's help. "Alright. See those people at that table over there?"

"Which one?"

"The one behind your daddy."

"Uh huh."

"I need you to take them their order, okay?" she said, placing the tray on the girl's outstretched hands. "Hold it carefully now."

"I will, don't worry." Holding the tray close to her chest and walking with slow, deliberate steps so that she didn't spill the drinks, Marlene slowly made her way towards the table. The group of men greeted her enthusiastically, taking their drinks off the tray. Marlene waited until it was empty, then ran back to Tifa, who was busy serving customers at the bar. "Did I do good?" she asked, waiting eagerly for her next assignment.

"You did very good. You wanna take this tray over to your dad?"

"Sure!"

Tifa's regular shift continued much the same. Eventually, the few members of AVALANCHE left, taking Marlene with them. Tifa soon found herself alone and working a shift she never had before.

The customers grew rowdier as the time for food passed and the time for drinking came. Tifa found herself grateful for her easy regular hours. The evening crowd shuffled out and the crowd that had already been kicked out of at least one bar came in. A couple late-shift waitresses came in to help and stuck around even after hearing that Black was dead.

One man in a blue business suit with jet-black hair and what Tifa supposed was a mark of religious faith on his forehead came in at around one o'clock. He walked in the door, looked around, and left. Tifa found herself unable to suppress a shudder as he turned to leave. The look in his eyes when his gaze had landed on her and the strange smirk on his face as he had turned leave had given her the shivers.

Rude came in shortly after, and Tifa smiled a little as he took a seat at the bar. Rude was hardly her type; he had half a million earrings in his ears, was bald, could be startlingly cold, and wanted to work for Shinra. _But he understands me_, she thought to herself as she walked over towards him, _and I can't say that for a lot of people anymore_.

"So what can I get you?"

"Just a beer."

"Coming right up."

They didn't talk much that night. Tifa was too busy with the bar to manage anything but the occasional smile in his direction and a word or two while he ordered his next beer. There was absolutely no reason as to why he should have stuck around for the whole night, but he did. He helped her out when one of the customers got out of hand, and was still there when she was thanking the waitresses for their help and getting ready to close up almost four hours later.

Taking one last mouthful of beer, he put the bottle back down on the bar and stood to help her clean up a little bit before leaving. "Busy night tonight," he said, feeling the need to start a conversation.

She smiled. "Yeah, I'm pooped. I've never worked the late shift before, let alone all three."

"Can't your friends help you out earlier in the day?"

"Nah, they got jobs of their own."

"With Black out of the picture, you could run this place you know."

"Illegally," she pointed out.

"Who does stuff legally in the slums? Are you trying to tell me that President Shinra legalized rebel groups? Cuz if he did, he must be insane."

Tifa looked at him strangely for a moment, his regular cool voice had disappeared there for a second and she was once again startled to hear emotion in his voice. This time however, it was humor rather than sadness and pity. Shaking it off, she grinned and headed to the door. "I just don't know if I'd be any good at it."

"You did fine tonight," he said pointedly.

"I had no idea what I was doing. When that one guy got out of hand I had no clue what to do."

"You handled it pretty well I thought," he said, walking out so she could lock up.

"Thanks to you."

"I'm serious, I think you should take over the place. Hell, you never know, maybe you and your rebel buddies could use it as a fort."

She laughed at this idea and turned off the lights. Closing the doors behind her, she withdrew the key from her pocket and locked up. She smiled up at him, "I'll think about it," she said, walking down the rotting steps. He followed her, and walked her to the train station. There they boarded the morning's first train and headed off towards Sector Four.

The train was surprisingly busy for five in the morning. Shinra employees sat side-by-side, hoping they wouldn't run into any security problems and wind up late for work. When Rude and Tifa boarded the last car, there were only three seats left; two on one side, and another right across the aisle. They took the two side-by-side and sat in silence, waiting for the train to pull away.

He smiled at her once, then turned his face away to gaze out the far window. Tifa noticed that he seemed strangely distant, and grew worried. The train started up and it wasn't long before they were speeding towards the station in Sector Eight.

"First's train's always a round trip," she said, aching to break the silence.

He nodded, but said nothing.

"There something wrong?"

"Why should there be?"

There was that voice again; distant, cold, uncaring. Tifa wondered if it was because of something that she had done. Shaking the thought from her mind, she turned to gaze out the window behind her, curious as to how so much had come between them in such a short space of time.

The train slowed, then came to a stop. A few passengers got off, while more came on board. One man sat down across from her and Rude. He winked and flashed a grin at her. She suddenly found the silence unbearable, and struggled to find a topic as the train once again pulled out of the station.

"So, where do you live?"

"Sector Three."

"Apartment?"

"Yeah."

The conversation died yet again, and after another silence, Tifa noticed that the train was once again slowing to come into the station. _We must be at Sector One by now,_ she thought, mentally calculating how much longer the train ride would take.

"Who were you trying to kill?" she asked suddenly. A couple people looked up, but none seemed very interested in the topic.

"Don't bring that up."

"Why not?"

"Cuz it's over."

She blinked a couple times and was about to pursue the topic when her eye caught a man in a blue suit boarding the train. Tifa recognized him as the same person who had entered the bar earlier, then turned and left.

He walked calmly in their direction, then stopped and stood in front of the man who sat across from them.

"Move," he said, his voice as cold as Rude's.

The man fidgeted a bit, but stayed seated.

"Move," he repeated.

Finally, he stood and began muttering curses under his breath as he shuffled off towards a different car.

Unfazed, the man seated himself right across from her and Rude, his eyes locked on the two of them.

Rude began to fidget, and Tifa noticed him avert his eyes from the man's harsh glare. The whisperings of the Shinra employees made Tifa nervous, and she silently ridiculed herself for being frightened so easily. Master Zangan would never approve.

The train took off again, and Tifa turned around in her seat to look out the window.

He didn't speak, and that was the worst part of it all. He just sat there with an amused sort of smirk on his face, enjoying every minute of Rude's torment. In an effort to control himself, Rude returned his stare, trying in vain to convey a sense of certainty in his actions.

It wasn't long before the train was once again slowing down. _Shinra's really outdone themselves with these rush hour express trains_, he thought as even more people boarded. The lack of seats forced some of them to stand, and Rude was greatly relieved when an elderly woman stopped to stand right between him and Tseng.

_I just don't think I can do it_, he thought, looking over at the beautiful girl who sat on his left. She smiled a little then turned back to the window, having given up on conversation a long time ago.

_But then again, how can I not?_ Looking around the woman who stood before him, Rude tried to examine the Turk leader's expression. He had made no move to continue staring at Rude once his vision was blocked, and Rude was all the more thankful for the human barrier. If he'd seen that calm and serious face peeking around the lady, he thought he'd flip.

Finding himself caught in the middle between beauty and power, Rude reached in his pocket for his gun. He stroked the smooth surface for a bit, strangely comforted by its presence.

Turning his head to look back over at Tifa, he was slightly relieved to find that she didn't notice him. Curious as to how she could maintain her beauty and innocence despite all that had presumably happened to her, Rude was tempted to ask her exactly what Sephiroth had done. Remembering Tseng's presence however, he swallowed the words and contented himself by just looking at her. He supposed that Zangan had taught her to survive, strengthened her spirit with his martial arts.

The real mystery though, was why she was allowing him to get so close to her. He had been through half as much as her, and contained none of her beauty. He was a lousy alcoholic who was out for power while she was a gorgeous bar hostess, full of hope and dreams. They were complete opposites, so why was she sitting next to him?

The train slowed once again and Rude turned to look out the window behind him. Sector Three Station. _I should be getting off here_, he thought to himself, but remained seated as the train sped out of the station.

Returning to his dilemma, he tried to reason it out. On the one hand, there was power, money, and the adventure that came with doing Shinra's dirty work. If he was going to kill more people, he couldn't hesitate with this one. It had to be smooth; it had to be done.

But then, on his left was Tifa, the very person he was supposed to kill. Young, talented, and full of dreams, she sat beside him like a fallen angel. A broken past behind her and a bright future still to come. To kill her would be to destroy that future, shatter the dreams, and break her soul.

_Damn it, didn't I already decide on this? Why can't I just do something and be done with it?_

A soft voice came to his ears, and he suddenly realized that the train had stopped.

"Rude? You coming?"

He looked up at her, then around the elderly woman to Tseng. Standing, he patted the gun in his pocket once more. "Yeah," he said, following her off the train. "I'm coming."

"Hey Biggs, where you off to so early in the morning?"

"Work. He told me if I come in early today I could get the weekend off. Needs help with his tank or something. You?"

"Just out for a stroll."

"Ah."

The two friends fell silent, walking side-by-side through Sector Five. Each knew what the other was thinking, but no thoughts were voiced. Tifa's possible betrayal to the group was on everybody's mind, though for some reason, none of them had brought the topic up the previous night; they had all chosen to leave their loud and glorious leader in the dark.

Biggs and Jess continued to walk in silence until the young mechanic finally said something. "Do you think it was really him?"

"Who?" Biggs asked, though the question was pointless. He knew exactly who she was talking about.

"The guy who shot Marlene."

"Probably."

"Why do you think she was with him?"

"Fuck Jess, how the hell am I supposed to know? Maybe she was ratting us out or something."

"Not much point to that; it's not like we've gotten very far with the plans. Barret just rants and raves a lot of the time."

"I know. I wish we could get something done."

"Me too. A base would help. Y'know, a place to do business."

"Yeah. That'd be cool." He paused, thinking back to one meeting a couple days ago. "Hey Jess, do you think Tifa was right when she said people would help us out if we asked them?"

"You mean when she started talking about the slums banding together to form a massive underground resistance?"

"Yeah. Think it could ever work?"

"I dunno. Seems pretty unlikely, doncha think?"

"I guess. It'd be cool though."

"The thing is, people are afraid of Shinra. Their army rules the world and their financial power is second to none. Shinra could ruin them if they had reason to suspect something."

"You've been arguing with Wedge too much Jess."

"Nah, now I've taken up arguing with Barret."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. But seriously though, couldn't it be worth checking out?"

Jess shook her head. "Shinra scares the people. There's so few who would actually volunteer to stand up to them."

"What about money. Y'know, donations?"

"You seriously think people would part with their hard earned cash to help buy guns for a puny rebel group who's probably only ever gonna go after small stuff, y'know, the odd plant or something?"

"Yeah, you're right. I still think it'd be cool though."

"Sure it would, it's just not gonna happen."

They fell silent once again, each imagining glorious conquests against the company. Infiltrating the Shinra Headquarters, gathering information, blowing up mako reactors, blowing up the headquarters. It was all very nice to think about, but both knew that it would probably never happen. They were just too small, and if they didn't get stuff done in the early stages, there was no reason to believe that things would ever change. They weren't a rebel group, they were an anti-Shinra club, who sat around and argued about how they should do stuff, never getting past the planning stages. They were just too small to get stuff done.

"So he's repairing a tank, huh?"

"Wha? Oh, yeah, I dunno what he's gonna do with it once it's done."

"Heh. Mebbe he'll lend it to us so we can blow up that manufacturing plant in Sector Two."

"Heh heh, yeah right."

They grinned at each other and walked through the gates that led into Sector Six's notorious Wall Market.

"You really just out for a stroll Jess?"

She shrugged and kicked the dirt a couple times with the toe of her boot. "Lookin' for a job. Got laid off a couple days ago."

"That's rough."

"Ah, I'll be fine. Just figured Wall Market was the place to look for jobs, y'know?"

He paused as a thought struck him. "You're not gonna go look at…" he stopped, not wanting to finish the sentence. The very idea of Jess reducing herself to that was just, unthinkable!

"No! No, I heard there was an opening at the Pharmacy."

"Oh, okay, good," he said, chuckling nervously. "That's not your kind of thing though, you sure you wanna work at the Pharmacy?"

"I need some cash to tide me over 'till I find something better."

"Oh. Y'know, we could always lend you some, if ya ever needed it."

She smiled a little and stopped walking. "Biggs?"

"Yeah?"

"The Pharmacy's here."

"Oh, okay, see ya later."

"Yup."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Biggs continued to weave his way through the early morning crowds of Wall Market. He reached the Weapon Shop shortly after separating from Jess. Ignoring the CLOSED sign, he opened the door and walked through the gate to the repair section of the store.

"You need help with the tank huh?"

"Yeah, get over here and hand me my screwdriver."

"That it? You needed someone to fetch your tools?"

"You got some kind of problem with that?"

"Nope. Free weekend for me."

"Yeah, you watch your mouth or you won't get paid for it."

Biggs chuckled and handed him the screwdriver. They worked quietly for a little while, Biggs thinking back to his conversation with Jess and chuckling as he decided to bring the topic up.

"Hey, don't suppose you'd lend me this tank once its done would ya?"

"What for?"

"Blow a plant in Sector Two."

The aging Weapon Shop owner looked up, an earnest expression on his face. "You joined the resistance Biggs?" he asked quietly, setting the screwdriver down on the tank.

"Yeah," he said, half-heartedly punching the shell of the tank. "I joined the fucking resistance."

"Must be an old fashioned group. Whatcha want to use a tank for anyway? I thought bombs were the way to go these days."

"Yeah. I was just joking anyway. Didn't expect ya to lend me anything."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, the seriousness in his voice suddenly gone. "Ya didn't think I'd lend you stuff so you an' yer buddies can go blow stuff up? Let me tell you something mister hotshot rebel, you just tell me if you need anything. If I have it, an' I can afford to give it to ya, it's yours."

"You serious?"

"Why the hell not? I got no reason to like Shinra. Now I ain't saying that I'm willing to put my life on the line to get rid of them, it's the only life I got, but if you ever need any supplies an' stuff, don't be afraid to ask."

Stunned, the young rebel could only stutter his thanks and sit down, waiting for new orders. Chuckling, the rebels' new ally picked up the screwdriver and continued his work. Biggs said nothing, thinking instead about the conversation that had just taken place. Shaking his head, he picked up a screw and tossed it to his boss, wondering what was suddenly right with the world.


	6. The Fall of an Angel

They made their way through the crowds and along the cracked concrete streets of the Sector Four slums. Silence continued its reign over them, killing any hope for conversation. As they neared her apartment building, he laid a hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly to her.

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"What was wrong with before?"

"Before wasn't now." She went to say something, but he cut her off, glancing behind him nervously. "Look, it's about the shooting."

A thousand retorts rose and died on her lips. She wanted to say no, to tell him that she wasn't all that interested in the shooting anymore and that if he couldn't be bothered to talk on the train, she couldn't be bothered now. But she knew there was no point. Even if the topic wasn't the shooting, she would talk to him, if only to not be alone for a little while longer. The urgency in his voice led her to believe that he needed company as well.

"Okay, come on up."

He nodded and followed her inside, casting one last glance over his shoulder. Behind them, on a nearby bench, Tseng stood up, stuck his hands in his pockets, and followed them in.

Jerking the stubborn door open, Tifa led him inside, turning on the three lights that hung from the ceiling. Walking over to the small kitchen area, she took out two glasses and filled one of them with water.

"You want something?"

"Sure, what d'you have?" he asked, his calm, regular voice returning.

"I might have a little iced tea left."

"Any beer?"

She shook her head. "I don't drink."

Walking over, he took a seat at the table. Tifa pulled out the iced tea and poured what remained into the other glass. Sitting down across from him, she put the two drinks down on the table, and motioned for him to take one. He reached for the water and took a drink.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah."

"'Bout the shooting?"

"Yeah."

"So?"

Sitting back, Rude took a deep breath and sip of water. Pushing up his sunglasses, he set his drink down and prepared to talk.

"After my dad was killed, I was … well, it was just like you said. I didn't know what to think about him all of a sudden. I wanted to do something, but I didn't really know what I could do." He stopped, and took another drink. Scratching the back of his bald head, he started up again. "I decided to work for Shinra."

She raised her eyebrows and took a sip of iced tea. Rude waited for her to say something, but when she didn't, he continued.

"I was looking to be a Turk, and they let me try out. They made me do some tests, you know, see how good I am with a gun, stuff like that. When I passed, they gave me an assignment, to break me in sort of. They told me who and where, then gave me some money for my trouble and sent me back down to the slums."

"The where was the bar."

"Yeah. I went there, shot, and missed." He stopped. "Do you know who was sitting across from us on the train?"

She shook her head. "He walked into the bar before you came but left like, five seconds later."

"It was Tseng, the leader of the Turks. He wants to make sure I get it done."

"I thought you said it was over."

He shrugged. "I wanted to drop the subject, he was sitting right there." After finishing off his water, he added, "He followed us off the train too. He was sitting on a bench when we came in."

"Does he know that—"

"You're a rebel? No. Shinra only has suspicions about Barret."

"They tried to arrest Biggs, Jess 'n Wedge once."

"I didn't hear about that."

"Were you shooting at them?" she asked, having another drink.

He didn't answer, but chose instead to stare at his empty glass. "I don't want to do it anymore," he mumbled.

"Why not? What changed?"

"I'm just not so sure it's worth it."

"Alright, let me get this straight. You want to be a Turk. They say 'okay, go kill these three people and we'll make you one'. You go, but miss your first shot, so the Turk leader decides to follow you around. Only now, you don't want to do it anymore? Sorry, that just doesn't make sense."

"That's because there's only one target."

"You're only supposed to kill one of them?"

He nodded, his mouth suddenly dry.

She took a moment to digest this new information, then shook her head. "It still doesn't make sense. Who is it?"

He said nothing, choosing to tap his fingers on the table for lack of a drink. She didn't ask again; just took a sip of her iced tea, and waited for him to say something else.

Finally, he bit his lip and answered. "You gotta believe me Tifa, I don't want to do it. I don't want to do it but I don't have a choice! He's probably outside right now. I don't do it, and I'm toast!"

She leaned back in her chair, startled by the sudden urgency in his voice. "Rude?"

He stood up, almost knocking the chair over as he did so. "I— I gotta go. I gotta—" backing away from her, he moved towards the door.

"Rude, wait, don't do it. Don't let them turn you into another murderer for them. Come on, there's gotta be a way out of it. I can have Jess make you a fake ID or something," she stood as well, moving towards him with uncertain steps.

Finally, he bumped into the counter, having gone crooked in his backward retreat. "You don't understand. You don't know! You—"

Tifa moved quickly to prevent him from leaving. At his side in seconds, she placed a gentle, yet firm hand on his shoulder. "Who is it?" she whispered up into his ear.

Rude dug into his pockets and removed a small crumpled piece of paper. He stuffed it into her hand, folded her fingers over it and backed away from her until his left hand rested on the doorknob.

Slowly, she unfolded the paper and smoothed it out with her thumb. It was a copy of an old bus pass photo. On it, a cheerful young girl smiled up at her. She looked at him fearfully for a moment as two words escaped her lips.

"It's me."

"Yeah, I know." Reaching once again into his deep pockets, he pulled out his gun, and adjusted his aim.

The shot came and went like any other shot. The bullet buried itself deep in her flesh and she, too stunned to do anything else, fell to the ground.

When the sound had passed, she lay crumpled on the floor like a broken doll, staring up at the ceiling with large, empty eyes. Slowly, she moved her left hand to the wound. Bringing it back up towards her face, she watched with an unattached gaze as her thumb and fore finger rubbed the blood between them. Finally, she let it fall to the ground, and closed her eyes.

Tseng had come in after the shot, nearly knocking Rude over when he opened the door. He stood half in, half out of the apartment, watching as she died. When her eyes closed, he patted Rude on the back, slipped a key card in his pocket, then left. And that was that.

When it was over, he followed his boss out, the image of a fallen angel firmly imprinted in his mind.

As he walked out into the street, he was startled at how so little had changed. The ruined buildings still loomed over the apathetic crowds; almost daring them to acknowledge the presence of the plate, and the fact that they would never see the sun or night sky. The slums hadn't changed at all, but to Rude, it was all very different.

Tseng had long since disappeared into the crowds on his way back up to the plate, to the comfort of life there. Rude imagined what it would be like. Would the food taste better? Would the air be fresher? Would the rain feel good as it fell from the heavens? Snapping himself back to his current guilt, he continued to trudge along the streets, wondering why he bothered.

In an effort to justify his actions, he reasoned that life, especially down in the slums, was a waste of time. She had been miserable and lonely, unsure of why she was still living, when those she cared about were dead. In her grief, she sought to bring chaos to the world by destroying the people she blamed for it all. Shinra.

But the employees of the world's largest monopoly hadn't destroyed her life. In striking out at them, she would have forced them to strike back at her, starting a vicious cycle of pain and death that would likely never end. In killing her, hadn't he broken the cycle? Saved her from the hurt that hurting others would cause? You could pay any priest and he would say that she was happier dead; that she was with her family and friends. But Rude did not believe in heaven or the after-life. In his mind, death was the end, and no amount of justification could make him change his lack of faith.

Someone had to be told. The thought of her body lying there for a couple days until someone finally noticed sickened him. It wasn't because he thought she deserved better; he didn't believe it mattered anymore. But to ease his own guilt he needed to have her laid to rest.

Changing his course, he crossed the street and stopped when he reached the pay phone. Dialing the number of the free Shinra Help Line, he stood waiting for someone to pick up.

"Shinra Help Line, how may I help you?"

"I need the number of the Weapon Shop in Wall Market."

"Alright, one moment please… Yes, it's 331-7940."

Hanging up on the operator, he jammed a gil into the machine and dialed the number. After several rings, someone finally picked up.

"What d'you want?" a harsh voice asked.

"Is there anyone named Jessie there?"

"Jess? No, why?"

"What about Biggs? Or Wedge?"

"Yeah, there's a Biggs here. What business is it of yours?"

"I need to talk to him."

"Biggs! Get over here!"

As Biggs neared, Rude could hear the man muttering to him about the cost that it took to have a phone and how he had never told him he could use it.

"Hello?"

"I just thought you should know that Tifa's dead."

"What! Who is this?"

"It doesn't matter. Her body's in her apartment on Twelfth Street in Sector Four."

A little shocked at the news and having several doubts about the person on the other end, Biggs struggled to take the information in. "Uh, what building?"

"It's a four story brick building at the end of the street. She's in unit 37."

"How long has she been…?"

"Dead? About ten minutes."

"How did you find out?" he asked skeptically.

"I killed her." And with that, he hung up.

She was dead, there was no changing that. Now that it was done though, the only thing to do was forget her. There was no changing the past, just like there was no justification for her murder. When it was all done and over with, the angel fell to allow rise for the devil. And that was that.

The room was cold, dark, and very lonely. She lay on the floor with her eyes closed against the harsh glow of the lights. Half of her was unsure of whether she was able to open them; the other half didn't want to.

The bullet had hit below the collarbone. Blood still slowly oozed out, staining her white top a deep crimson. Her back was sore from lying on the ground, but her attempts to shift position had only resulted in further discomfort.

Rude had left a little while ago, closing the door gently behind him. She didn't expect him to come back. Now that he had left, he was gone for good. Tifa didn't mind in the least.

Granted, she was shocked, and hurt that he'd betrayed her; but she'd rather that he be gone than watching her as she died. It seemed to Tifa that she had been dying a lot in the last year. But this time, there was no escape. She remembered something he had said to her once and gave a sharp, painful laugh. Curiosity, it appeared, had indeed killed the cat. It was about time.

Once she accepted it, she found dying to be an almost soothing sensation. Her breath still came in short, irregular bursts, and the floor was still hard and uncomfortable, but on the whole, she felt much better. She even managed to forget about Rude.

It hadn't been this easy in the reactor. The thought came to her mind despite all her attempts to keep memories of Nibelheim away. She was surprised to find she could think about her hometown now without the usual pain that accompanied it. She decided to sort through her memories, and smiled slightly as all the little things she had taken for granted surfaced. She thought about smiling, laughing, crying, and a great many shopping sprees. She remembered her training sessions with Zangan, and wondered what he would think of her now as she lay on the floor, defenseless and dying.

Quite unexpectedly, blue eyes appeared unbidden behind her lids. A pale face framed by blonde spikes followed, and Tifa was surprised to feel a tear slide down her cheek. She hadn't realized she cared so much about the man with the sad eyes.

None of it mattered anymore of course. She was dying, and there was nothing her phantom protector could do to change it. Thinking about him did nothing to help her situation, so she tried her best to change the image that stared, unblinking, into her soul.

Natasha took his place, but it was not the same Natasha that had been her best friend since the third grade. This Natasha had bright blue eyes that stared at her and refused to let her look away.

Again she tried to change the face. This time, her mother appeared. It was exactly how she had looked before the sickness took her, but still, no matter how hard Tifa tried, she couldn't change the eyes.

Giving in, she allowed the face to change back to that of her old neighbor. She did her best to avoid his gaze, but soon found that there was nowhere in the darkness she could hide. It didn't take long before he cornered her and she couldn't help but look him in the eye.

Reflected in them, she saw Rude, holding a gun, and aiming it at her.

She tried to look away, but the eyes wouldn't let her. She saw her own eyes squeeze shut and Rude look away before he pulled the trigger. His hand shook, and his target changed ever so slightly before the bullet began its fatal journey. She watched as she collapsed to the ground and saw Tseng congratulate him on the kill. The image disappeared and Tifa decided that the eyes she had admired for so long were not as nice as she had originally thought. Focusing on his tall blonde spikes, she allowed her thoughts to wander back to what she had seen in his eyes.

She hadn't known that he had looked away. In a strange way, it almost made her feel better about the whole betrayal. He had told her that he didn't want to do it and she was surprised to find she almost believed him. Almost. In her mind, Cloud smiled, and faded away into the blackness.

A sound. Tifa tried to place it, but couldn't focus long enough to identify it. There were other sounds, but they became muffled and she wasn't entirely sure whether it was her imagination or not. Before she knew it, she had lost all awareness.


	7. Epilogue

Rude sat staring at the cheque. He had been sitting there for several hours, holding it in both hands. A beer that Reno had given him sat unopened before him.

Reno had left almost immediately after handing Rude his pay. Turks were paid regularly so that they stayed loyal to Shinra, but a bonus was given for every successful mission. Rude had just received his first bonus.

The cheque was late coming, something which Rude found strange. Shinra had enough money to pay him right away. He had been expecting the money for several months, ever since he had completed his so-called "initiation assignment" but the finality of the cheque stunned him nonetheless.

Taking Reno's advice, Rude had originally put it behind him, but that was a difficult thing to do when it was staring you in the face. He had killed her for this, a lousy piece of paper with numbers and a signature. 2000 gil. It hardly seemed worth it.

He tried to tell himself no, that it had been for more than that. But more what? Cheques? A blue suit? That still didn't justify what he had done.

He hoped Reno was right when he had said it was only because he knew her. He fully planned to take his colleague's advice next time. "Don't get to know someone you plan to kill," he had said.

As he sat there, almost motionless, holding the cheque out in front of him, memories of the kill resurfaced.

It was the look she gave him. That look of utter betrayal as she collapsed to the ground. It seemed to take forever, but her eyes finally closed and he knew she was gone.

It still wasn't worth it, despite the fact that he had called her friend at the Weapon Shop to tell him so that she could have a proper burial, it didn't make up for killing her in the first place. Nothing could ever make up for it.

Reno said it got easier. He hoped it did.

Tearing the cheque up into tiny pieces, he threw them behind him in the general direction of the garbage can. He knew none of the pieces went in, but honestly didn't care.

Standing, Rude took the beer from where it sat on the table and walked into his room, closing the door behind him.

The pavement on which she ran was cracked and full of potholes. Old streetlights, long dead, bordered each side of the road, looming over like dead flowers. The highway led to the very outskirts of the city; out to a gate that, like the road itself, hadn't been used for years. It had been locked since before she had even arrived in Midgar. There were hardly any exits accessible through the slums these days.

She stumbled, temporarily breaking the steady pace at which she ran. She hadn't quite figured out exactly what it was she was running from, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Yet as she ran, alone on the deserted highway, she couldn't stop the thoughts from entering her head. _Maybe it's Shinra_, she thought, as she turned the final bend. _Maybe Midgar, or maybe I'm running from what happened_. She stopped, the road having ended on the outskirts of Sector Seven.

She put her hands on her knees and bent over, trying to catch her breath. She stayed like that until she could no longer feel her heart pounding in her chest. Looking up at the huge gate that stood unyielding before her, another possibility came to mind. _Maybe it's something completely different._

It had been several months since she had once again dodged death. But life went on, as life always does. AVALANCHE was gaining popularity; the slums finally seemed to be warming up to the idea of banding together.

They had a base now too. Barret had officially bought the bar, but after realizing that he didn't know the first thing about running one, had handed it over to Tifa on the condition that it be used as AVALANCHE's base.

At Marlene's suggestion, she had renamed it Tifa's Seventh Heaven. It was still the same bar, with the exception that the upstairs now housed those known locally as "The Creators of AVALANCHE". Barret swore the bar would go down in history. Tifa preferred that it not.

Jess had created an elevator out of a broken pinball machine and a large hole in the floor. Any official AVALANCHE business was taken downstairs. The group's future was looking bright.

Raising her head to look up at the gate, Tifa realized she had always known why she ran. During her time in Midgar she had built a wall up around her; a shield of cheerfulness and optimism. But the foundation of that wall had cracks, and she knew that it could not support itself. There would be times when the new cheery and lively Tifa would disappear and the old Tifa, the one who was frightened and alone, would surface.

She couldn't let them see her. They couldn't know that despite her happy exterior, she was just another lost soul, blending in amongst the millions trying to find their way in the slums. No, they couldn't see how weak she was.

She was weak on the road, and the time spent as herself when she ran was enough to strengthen the foundations of her wall for another day. She didn't run from Shinra, or Midgar or her past, she ran so that she could be herself.

_But that's okay, _she thought, standing up straight,_ at least the road knows who I am._ Casting a final glance at the ever-unyielding gate that served as the doors of her prison, she turned and walked away.


End file.
